It's About Time
by kittenkath18
Summary: Hope Mikaelson awakens in the bed of Ryan Clarke and they attempt to recall their evening. [ an AU one-shot, not canon compliant ] An english translation of a russian one-shot from tumblr.


Hope had only a handful of breaths to contemplate the fact that she was in a bed with Ryan Clarke before he awoke and pinned her with a confused glower.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded in a raspy voice, sitting up and scooting to the edge of the bed, fist in the blanket to cover his…nudity.

"Excellent question," Hope replied, clutching bedclothes to her chest. A speedy mental inventory of her clothing revealed that, as she suspected, she wore none. She wouldn't give up the blankets without a fight.

"No memory of the evening..?" she asked, forcing her gaze to remain on his face rather than trace the lines of his arms and chest musculature marred by old and new scars.

His pale gaze met hers and all frustration seemed to leave him.

"Landon's wedding," he supplied.

"Alcohol," she added.

"It would appear so," he agreed with a drawn brow.

Hope's breath hitched as she vividly recalled the sensation of being beneath Ryan and running her hand through his hair. Warmth suffused her neck and face… Oh, it had been lovely.

"I better find my clothes," she whispered, mortified.

"I've just remembered something," he said, quite still.

"Yes?"

"Landon took your car keys."

"We were arguing," Hope supplied as the memory sluggishly appeared in her mind. "Most of the guests had already gone… I refused to leave until…"

"You convinced me to support Saltzman's return as headmaster," Ryan finished with a suspicious curl to his mouth.

"Yes," she replied.

"I don't make a habit of luring women into my bed," Ryan began.

"If you're attempting to apologize, you needn't bother," Hope hurried to explain, self-consciously adjusting her blankets.

"Oh?" he prompted.

"I propositioned you," she confessed, face warm as she remembered, in detail, how forward she'd been. If her memory was to be trusted, her hands all over him had left little doubt to her desire.

"I see," he replied, slowly, eyes slitted as he peered at her.

"Of course, you threw me over your shoulder and carried me up here," she added as the memory surfaced.

"Ah, I believe you are correct," he drawled. "You could barely walk."

An embarrassed grin suddenly broke across Hope's face. They'd made largely unintelligible confessions of attraction as they'd undressed each other.

"My father probably saw that," Ryan hissed, pressing a hand to his eyes.

"I'll say nothing happened, if it helps," Hope offered, feeling bereft.

He blinked at her.

"Perhaps you don't yet recall…"

Hope quirked a brow.

"What prompted our journey to my room…" he continued.

Hope squinted, attempting to pinpoint the moment in her blurred memories. As it came to her, she gasped and leapt from the bed.

"No! It was in front of our closest friends…" she bemoaned.

"And my father," Ryan said bitterly.

"Youproposedto me," she whispered, scandalized. He'd taken a knee, before a small circle of their friends.

"And youaccepted," Ryan replied dryly.

A blanket was draped across Hope's shoulders.

"Thank you," she said. "How could this happen?" she muttered.

"You were quite complimentary of my hair," Ryan teased.

"Yes; and you, my breasts. That's hardly grounds for marriage," Hope snapped. She pulled her blanket tighter about her shoulders and began pacing.

"Hope."

The sound of her name from his lips wasn't quite as foreign as it had been a day ago but it stopped her.

Ryan sat on the edge of the bed, sheet across his middle, an irritatingly amused glint in his eyes.

"We are adults and owe explanations to none," he said.

"You're right, of course," she exhaled. "It was simply a drunken mistake."

As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. She'd been distressingly attracted to Ryan Clarke for months; the alcohol had merely removed her inhibitions.

"What I mean is, the proposal," she clarified.

"Not the proposition?" he drawled.

Hope waited until his eyes met hers before replying, "Not the proposition."

A couple of hours later, Hope followed Ryan from his bedroom, down a few flights of stairs, into the dining room. Landon and Josie, Sebastian and Lizzie, and Ryan's father, Malivore, went silent over their lunch at their arrival.

Hope blushingly sat as Ryan drew out her chair and took the seat beside her.

"Are congratulations in order, brother?" Landon asked in a careful tone.

"Oh!" Hope had quite forgotten about the whole proposal ordeal, preoccupied with Ryan who pulled her back into his bed.

She and Ryan looked at one another, uncertain of their future. Something in the him changed, formed some sort of resolve. He leaned closer to her, fondness in his gaze.

"Yes," he said. "Yes, they are."

"It's about time," Malivore muttered and sipped from his glass.


End file.
